child, be still
by Kiyoshi Kitana
Summary: "Could you... could you maybe sing that one song? The one you said Francis taught you." [amecan][hetaoni AU]


The room they're in is silent save for the soft snores of other nations piled around them. Safe enough here, wherever _here_ is, Matthew finds the adrenaline that's kept him running for so long has finally burnt itself out. All that's left in him in its wake is exhaustion, dry eyes, and heavy limbs, achy from exertion and panic. He's grateful for a chance to recharge, to process the situation he's in.

Now, if only he could take advantage of it.

Matthew cracks one eye open as Alfred shifts in his arms for the fifth time since he's started counting. Alfred presses his face into Matt's neck this time, blonde hair tickling his nose; after a few moments of utter stillness, Alfred flops over and presses his back to Matthew's chest instead. That makes six.

Alfred doesn't move for long enough, breathes evenly enough, that Matthew's lulled back to the edge of unconsciousness by his warmth and bulk. Then Alfred rolls over _again_, suddenly, and Matthew sighs in the darkness.

"Alfie, I can't sleep if you keep moving around like that."

Matthew feels the way Al's body tenses up, startled, then relaxes against him again. Alfred shifts to twine their legs together.

"Sorry, I'm just..." and this is where Alfred pauses, tries to pick words that won't make him sound less heroic. His voice is a whisper pitched just for his brother. "I'm just a little freaked out, that's all. You saw that thing."

Fighting down the disturbing image that wants to appear behind his eyes, Matt agrees solemnly. "I did."

Matt is pretty sure he's getting to the point where he's overtired; soon even stringing together cohesive thought will be difficult. Still, he pulls America as close as he can, bunching his fingers in the fabric of his shirt as he squeezes him tight. A huff of breath is forced from Al, followed by his face burrowing into Matthew's shoulder.

His words are further muffled, but Matt understands them all the same. "'m glad you're here, Matty. I mean... it sucks that we're here, but at least 'm not alone, you know?"

That makes Matthew's lips quirk in a brief, tired smile. He already feels himself drifting again. "I know."

"I think I know what'll help me sleep."

He hears Alfred's words immediately, but it takes him several moments to drum up a response. And even then, it's only a bemused "Hmm?"

"Yeah. Could you... could you maybe sing that one song?" Alfred murmurs, nudging Matt's neck with his nose. "The one you said Francis taught you."

As Alfred's request percolates in his mind hazily, Matthew yawns. It comes up from his core, deep enough that his whole body shakes with the force of it. When he settles down, he's alert enough to say with a furrowed brow that his brother can't see, "Why that one?"

Al doesn't bother to give an explanation, opting instead to say, "Please?"

"Alright, alright. If it'll help."

They rearrange themselves so Alfred's back is to Matthew's chest, so that Matthew's mouth millimeters from his ear. Alfred laces his fingers with Matt's, pressing Matt's palm flat to his belly, then takes a deep breath, in and out. "'kay, I'm ready."

The chorus of the song floats from the recesses of Matthew's mind first, so he starts there, closing his eyes to focus on the words.

_Auprès de ma blonde, qu'il fait bon, fait bon, fait bon; auprès de ma blonde, qu'il fait bon dormir..._

_La caille, la tourterelle, et la jolie perdrix; la caille, la tourterelle, et la jolie perdrix..._

_Et la jolie colombe qui chante jour et nuit..._

Too tired to remember the rest, he simply sings the refrain over again. And again, until the words are little more than slurred whispers and puffs of air.

..._auprès de ma blonde..._

The next morning, Alfred's veneer of cheerfulness is back into place. He says nothing of his request and so Matthew doesn't either; there's so much more to focus on, so many other questions in need of answering. Yet some time between breakfast and strategy planning, Alfred drops a kiss to the back of Matthew's neck, whispers _love you, Matty_ against the shell of his ear before moving on.

Matthew smiles.

It's as good a thank you as any.

* * *

the song that Matthew sings is Auprès de ma blonde, a traditional (French) Canadian song


End file.
